Field of Stone
by carolinelea
Summary: They stood there, their silence only broken by the soft beeping of machines and the great heaving breaths Lanie employed against her tears.


_Just a little something I've had rolling around in my head all summer...after I watched the Comic-Con preview from San Diego, it all seemed to come together nicely. We all know Castle & Beckett won't be getting together anytime soon, so I tried to make this as canon as possible. The song lyrics are from Jeremy Messersmith's 'A Girl, A Boy, and A Graveyard.' I highly recommend listening to it as you read; 1) because it's a fantastic song, and 2) because it's a rather perfect description of where these two characters are at the moment._

_Hope you enjoy - leave me a review if so!_

* * *

><p><em>Lucy takes the long way home<br>__meets me in a field of stone_

The instant her eyes rolled back in her head and drifted shut, his whole world ceased.

He knelt there, cradling her head, and forgot everything. He forgot his daughter, his mother, his friends – hell, he couldn't even remember his own name, because the only thing in his world was the death mask covering her face.

"Kate," someone whimpered, and he didn't realize it was his own voice, cracked and desperate and repetitive. "Kate. Kate."

Someone shoved him roughly away, sending him sprawling. He sat there, stunned, as a woman he vaguely recognized pressed a wad of startlingly white gauze against the traitorous hole in Kate's chest. She looked up at him and it took him a minute before he realized that she was yelling at him.

"Castle!"

Her voice finally broke through his walls and it seemed as though all of his senses rushed back to him: he heard the sobbing, the shouting, sensed the odor of the sharp green grass mixed with the metallic tinge of blood, and finally – finally! – detected the wail of an ambulance in the distance.

"Castle!"

Rick looked back to Lanie, whom he knew once more.

"Lanie?"

"Are you hurt?"

Castle stared at her, uncomprehending, almost hysterical.

"N-no," he stammered, trying not to lose it right then and there. "Kate's the one that's hurt, just Kate, just Kate –"

And then she was taken away, loaded on a gurney, and Lanie didn't waver, didn't move her hand from pressing down on Kate's wound. She climbed into the ambulance as if she was attached to the detective. Castle got to his feet, trying to keep his balance on numb legs, but it was only when Lanie looked back at him, standing there blankly, that he regained feeling.

"Castle – in," she ordered, and he obeyed. He sat in the corner, watching Lanie as if she was now in control of his every movement. He followed her out of the ambulance and down the dark hallways of the hospital, only stopping when the surgeon ordered her to get off the gurney.

She stopped, gloves covered in blood, and began to cry. The ever-present gentleman in Castle knew he should comfort her, should say thank you, should do something – but he could not tear his eyes away from the retreating gurney.

They stood there, their silence only broken by the soft beeping of machines and the great heaving breaths Lanie employed against her tears.

_she says: "I don't know how I'm s'posed to feel  
>my body's cold; my guts are twisted steel<em>

Castle called and told Alexis and his mother to go home, to stay there and lock the doors and windows, and for once, they don't argue. He knew he sounded cruel as he interrupted his daughter, refused to listen to her platitudes and concerns, but he didn't want her to see him like this. Not with his hands stained with blood that wouldn't seem to scrub completely off, not wild with worry and grief.

He hung up the phone and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. Esposito and Ryan were seated on either side of him: Esposito was sitting like a statue, scarcely breathing or blinking, although he had one arm around a trembling Lanie, who had finally succumbed to her tears; Ryan, however, was all nervous energy: he twirled his hat, tapped his feet, occasionally stood and paced.

They stayed like that for an hour: defeated, still, anxious, until Josh was suddenly there. He came to a skidding halt in front of Castle. Castle stood and dropped his phone with a clatter.

"You," said Josh, and he pointed a huge hand at the author. "You did this."

Before Ryan or Esposito even moved, Josh seized the front of Castle's button-down and punched him squarely in the face. Castle staggered back for just a moment before he saw red and launched himself at the bigger man. He didn't get far, however, as Esposito and Ryan jumped between them.

"You wanna back down, bro," threatened Esposito, forcing Josh up against the opposite wall. "You wanna back down right now."

Castle fought to get past Ryan, forgetting himself completely until Ryan shoved him hard and knocked him down into his chair. Ryan stood over him, panting, and shook his head.

"He's wrong," he said, and Castle stood up again as Ryan turned to face Esposito and Josh. "You're wrong. And you better back off or I'll have you thrown out of this hospital, Beckett or no Beckett."

"You'll what?" said Josh, infuriated. "Last time I checked, this wasn't the precinct."

"And last time I checked," said Ryan, his hand straying to the pair of handcuffs at his belt, "you weren't able to have someone thrown into a holding cell for disorderly conduct."

Esposito smirked and gave Josh one final shove before he stepped back. The pair of cops stood there like guards, daring Josh to make another move. Josh eyed them, enraged, but stayed where he was.

"She told me," he said, glaring at Castle. "She told me about how you poked around where you weren't supposed to, about how you sucked her into this whole mess again. And look what happened," he spat, his voice rising. "Look what you did. Montgomery is dead and she's not far behind."

Esposito snapped. He strode forward and put a white-gloved fist against Josh's chin.

"You have _no idea_ what the hell you're talking about," he growled. "One more word and you're outta here."

The waiting room was silent as Jim Beckett walked in. He seemed to not realize the situation, for he simply walked over to Castle and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Katie named you as her second next-of-kin," he said quietly. "They need us back there."

Josh shook Esposito off and strode out the sliding doors of the hospital without a word. They all watched as he started his motorcycle and drove away.

"Was that Josh?" Jim said, a bit confused.

"Yeah," said Esposito, brushing himself off and going to sit down next to Lanie again. "That was Josh."

"Is he coming back?" asked Jim.

"Hope not," said Ryan.

"Better not," said Lanie.

Jim spared the empty parking spot one more glance before he motioned for Castle to follow him. Castle swayed on the spot and looked back at Esposito and Ryan, trying to convey his thanks without words, because he wasn't sure was able to form them. The two uniformed men nodded at him, respect in their eyes.

"Go," said Ryan. "That's your partner back there."

_and I feel like I'm some kind of Frankenstein  
>waiting for a shock to bring me back to life<em>

Kate was very puzzled.

She knew she was at Captain Montgomery's funeral, knew that everyone was looking at her as she delivered his eulogy, but she couldn't make a sound. In fact, she noticed, as she tried to turn and look at Castle standing beside her, she couldn't move, either. Something heavy and sharp was on her chest, splitting into her mercilessly.

"Kate…"

She blinked and suddenly she was on the ground, looking up at the cloudless sky. The pain was overwhelming. She tried to squirm away from it, tried to push it away somehow, but her arms seemed to be pinned down.

"Kate…"

What was happening? The pain was sharpening, concentrating, overtaking her, and she panicked.

"Help," she tried to say, attempted to move her lips and call out, but it was as if a hand of ice had clenched around her windpipe. She was going to die here, suffocated by the stake through her chest and the haze of agony covering her whole body.

"Help me, please," she pleaded with the heavens, praying that someone could hear her

"I'm right here, Kate," said the voice. It sounded so familiar. "I'm right here to help you. I'm right here."

Suddenly, she was awake.

She wasn't in the cemetery, after all. She blearily tried to focus in on the ceiling above her: gray tiles, punctuated by fluorescents. The pain roared in her chest, making it impossible for her to move and see who was speaking.

"Oh, thank you, God," she heard. A face moved over her and she tried to make out who it was.

"Kate? Can you hear me?"

She tried to nod and then gasped in pain.

"Shh," said the voice, and she felt a hand at her forehead, smoothing back her hair. She caught a scent of cologne – cool, yet musky – and knew exactly who it was. "Don't move. Just stay with me for a moment. The nurse is coming."

Swift waves of comfort began to wash over her.

"I've given her a dose of morphine," she heard dimly. "It should put her out for…"

And then all was dark again.

_but I don't want to spend my time  
>waiting for lightning to strike"<em>

The fluorescent lights were turned off the next time Beckett woke. Her head felt clearer; her vision sharper; and she was more aware of the pain. She held her breath in measured amounts before she tried to move her head.

A little to the left…hurt.

A little to the right…hurt even more.

What she saw when she looked to the right, however, made her lose her concentration.

Richard Castle was sitting there, still in his black suit and tie, slumped forward onto her bed, his head on his right arm and his left draped carefully next to her own. She bemusedly took in his appearance: his clothing was rumpled and there was a purple bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. She looked at it in confusion, wondering where it had come from. She tried to lift her hand to touch it, to make sure it was really there, when his eyes opened.

He sat up, blinking, as if he were coming out of a very dense fog.

"You're awake," he said blankly.

"Yes," she said, and her voice sounded alien, as if she hadn't used it in a very long time.

"Are you in pain?"

"Yes."

"Hold on, I'll get a nurse –"

"No, no," she rasped, and successfully lifted her hand enough to place it on top of his. "Not yet."

He sat back down slowly, taking in the sight of her hand on top of his. He swallowed hard and couldn't stop the quiet tears he'd been holding back.

"Castle," she said, trying to squeeze his hand. "Stop it."

"Sorry," he whispered, but as she looked up into his worried blue eyes, she felt her own beginning to well up.

"Hypocrite," he finally said, trying to laugh weakly. Beckett merely looked at him, tears making their way down her cheeks, and he used his unoccupied hand to wipe them away. They stared at one another for a long moment before Castle broke the silence.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Beckett nodded slightly. "Did they get the shooter?"

Castle's face became mask-like. "No. No, they didn't."

She sighed and turned to face back up toward the ceiling. She was lost in thought when Castle spoke again.

"Do you remember everything that happened?"

"I remember delivering the eulogy," she said slowly. "I remember you tackling me…but nothing after that." She looked over at him. "What else happened?"

His face seemed dark and sad and unfathomable – not at all open and mischievous like it usually was.

"Nothing," he said, and pressed the call button for the nurse. "You need to rest. You'll have company in the morning – your father and Lanie and everyone."

"No, wait," she protested, but he shook his head and gave her a small smile.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

"You promise?"

The question fell from her lips before she knew she was thinking it. The way Castle paused and held her gaze caused a wave of heat to sweep over her – or was that the morphine…?

"Always."

_so underneath the concrete sky  
>Lucy puts her hand in mine<em>

They never spoke about Josh after Beckett got out of the hospital. Castle knew that he came by a couple days after Beckett began physical therapy, but he never heard their conversation nor saw the rejection on Josh's face as he left.

Beckett's recovery was long and arduous; it was the most frustrating thing she had ever done. She was not a weak person, and the fact that she could do almost nothing for herself made her downright irascible. She spent every day angry and guilty, depending on others to wash her hair, cook her food, and help her walk to her bed. Lanie was the best caretaker (mostly because Kate wouldn't allow anyone else to help her shower), but when Lanie and Esposito went out for the weekend, Kate found herself stuck with an eager-to-help Castle.

"Castle, I swear to God –"

"I promise I'm not looking," he said, holding out her robe and turning his head to the side. "I'll just be outside…in case you need anything."

She shot him a warning look as he went to stand outside the door of her bathroom. _Why did I insist on Lanie and Esposito taking a weekend off?_ she asked herself a bit savagely as she reached for the cake of soap. She was halfway through scrubbing down her right leg when the shower started spinning. Dizzy, she reached out to grab hold of something, anything to keep her balance, and then felt her head crack against the tile wall.

"So you think it was the new meds?" she heard, and she opened her eyes to find she was on her bed, hair soaked and legs soapy. There was an ice pack balanced on her forehead and, as she took note of what she was wrapped in (no less than three towels and her bathrobe), she lay back on the mattress, trying not to laugh.

"Castle," she called, trying to sit up.

"Let me call you back, Lanie," she heard, and Castle walked into the room, his cheeks a bit flushed.

"I swear I closed my eyes as much as I could. You fell and hit your head…"

"I know, I know," said Kate, and she motioned for him to come and sit next to her. "You're not in trouble…well, not yet. The new meds don't mix with hot water, I'm guessing."

"No, they definitely don't," he agreed, sitting there awkwardly. They held each other's gaze for a minute before Castle shrugged.

"At least your towels weren't on fire this time."

Kate sat up on her elbows and stared at him. He had a sheepish grin on his face – that perfect Castle mix of irreverence and good nature – and the laughter she had been quashing burst forth.

The sound of it took her by surprise; what he had said wasn't even that funny, after all. How long had it been since she had just _laughed_? She wasn't sure if it was the overkill array of terry cotton she was cocooned in, the light-headedness from her mild concussion, or the ludicrous reality that she was lying down, sopping wet, next to Castle in her own bed, but she found that she couldn't stop. They laughed together so hard that tears of mirth began to run down her cheeks. He offered her a handkerchief, but instead of taking it, she rolled over so that her face was buried in his chest and let her tears fall onto his black t-shirt, instead.

A bit unsure, Castle did not move to wrap her in his arms, afraid of pushing his luck. It was only when he realized that her tears had turned to weeping that he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

"Shh," he said softly, turning to wrap his opposite arm around her, so that she was tucked against him securely. He lowered his lips to her hair and started whispering to her.

"Shh, Kate…it's okay…shh…"

He felt her nod, but her sobbing did not slow. Castle merely held her, occasionally humming lullabies he had memorized for Alexis, for what seemed like hours and hours. Eventually she quieted, and when Castle looked down to check, he saw that his supposition that she had literally cried herself to sleep had been correct.

He watched her lying there on his chest, warm and peaceful. Her legs were still sticky with soap, her hair was stiff and messy, and she still had dark purple rings under her eyes, evidence of nightmares, he was sure – but she was alive. Katherine Beckett was alive and curled into him, her breathing even and deep.

Castle sighed and momentarily took one arm away from her to scoot a pillow from the headboard under his neck. Kate shifted and a slight frown creased her face. He smiled lopsidedly as he replaced the arm and watched her furrowed brow relax.

"You're not allowed to hate me in the morning, Detective," he murmured, lying back and closing his eyes. "You hear me?"

_she says: "life's a game we're meant to lose  
>stick by me and I will stick by you<em>

Going to the graveyard became their own weird monthly pilgrimage, and, though some of Castle's worst memories had occurred there, he went with her every time without complaint. He'd much rather be with her in this place than let her go back to that infernal prison to have a staring contest with the Devil alone.

Each month was the same: Beckett would drive there, rain or shine. They would step out of the car and walk wordlessly to the Captain's stone marker. Castle would place a fresh flower arrangement there and then they would both kneel, weeding out the small sprouts around the edges that the gardener had missed. They would finish, sit back on their heels for a few moments, and then walk over to the bench under the oak tree nearby.

Here they allowed themselves muted conversation, occasional smiles, and, only because he was Castle and couldn't contain himself, a few cheeky jokes. Beckett would roll her eyes but laugh anyway, mostly because she couldn't help it.

Their eleventh trip (because of course he kept track in his head) was on a cool, windy November day. Castle had gained a new-found appreciation for rainy autumns ever since he had met Kate. These kinds of days made him wonder if Mother Nature had taken one look at the female detective and gotten envious enough to mimic her colors in the concrete sky and dark mottled greens and browns and golds.

Castle struggled to keep his eyes away from her. He peeked over at her as much as he could between weeds and thought he was caught when Kate suddenly stood and put her hands on her hips. He stood as well, expecting a good-natured tongue-lashing, but Kate did something very different. She stared at him for a moment, brushed her fingers against her jeans, and then slipped one of her hands in his own.

Castle looked down at her in surprise. Kate gave him a shy smile and started to lead him toward their bench. He followed her silently, utterly bemused when she stopped and looked down, reaching for his other hand. She held them together at her chest, right above where her black turtleneck covered the angry pink scar that still marred her skin.

"I love you, too," she said without preamble, and all the air fled from his lungs. Her gray-green eyes shone earnestly in her face as she looked up at him.

"What…" he stammered, but she cut him off.

"I remember," she said, her voice trembling. "I lied when I woke up in the hospital. I remember what you said to me, Rick. You told me to stay with you; to not leave you…and then you told me you loved me. And you were right, you know, when we got in that fight before the Captain died; I get in these relationships with men I don't love, and I'm tired of –"

Castle silenced her rambling with an ardent kiss. He threaded one gloved hand behind her ear and into her hair – that damned golden-brown hair that teased him with its gently curling tendrils and intoxicating scent – and placed the other at the small of her back so that he molded her body to his own. She made a small sound in the back of her throat and Castle let it thrum into his soul, where it seemed to send a flash of fire through his whole being.

He drew back only when he began to feel dizzy from a lack of oxygen. She seemed to be feeling the same way, judging from the way she blinked rapidly, swaying on the spot, her full lips beautifully flushed and swollen.

"Wow," she said breathlessly, and he smiled widely, placing his forehead on hers. "You use that trick on all the girls?"

"Katherine Beckett, I fully intend on kissing you like that every day for the rest of your life…more than once per day, actually…probably as often as I can," he amended. "And no. That one has always been reserved for you."

"Better have been," she said saucily, and she grinned as Castle took her tone as a challenge. She was suddenly swept off her feet as Castle dipped her and planted another searing kiss on her mouth. Her mind was blissfully blank as he drew back once more, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"I'm serious about the 'rest of your life' thing," he told her informatively. "Let's go get married, shall we?"

Kate smirked and stood, taking a step back from him. She held up her left hand waggled her ring finger in front of his eyes.

"I don't see a ring on this finger, Richard Castle."

His face was written over with mock surprise and disapproval. "Why, I had no idea you were so materialistic, my dear."

"You bet your rich ass I am," she said, turning and walking away, making sure she exaggerated the swing of her hips. She felt him watch her appreciatively for a moment before jogging a couple steps so that he was walking in front, facing her.

"Well, then, how does ten carats sound to my materialistic little cop?"

Beckett stopped and gave him a look. "Try nine carats less, and if you call me your materialistic little cop one more time, I'll break your legs…'kay?"

Castle laughed: a warm, robust laugh that seemed to fill up the deserted graveyard.

"'Kay," he replied, and caught her up in his arms, spinning her delightedly under the muted silver sky. She giggled in a most un-Beckett-like manner and bent her head forward to kiss him again, trying to make up for lost time. When they broke apart, Rick traced his thumb across her lips, captivated, and then promptly ruined the mood once more.

"So…seven carats?"

"Castle."

'_cause I'm like a princess in a castle high  
>waiting for a kiss to bring me back to life<em>

_but I don't want to spend my time  
>waiting for just another guy"<em>


End file.
